The Year We Turned Forty

by Liz Fenton

  “How did you . . .”

  “I found it wedged between two pairs of my running shorts. It must have fallen into the dresser drawer before I moved out.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriela said as she fingered the chain.

  “I was worried you might be lost without it.”

  “I was,” Gabriela said, stealing a small glance at him before looking down, knowing she was talking about so much more than the locket. Still surprised that their long marriage was able to unravel in such a short amount of time.

  “I hope this helps you find your path again,” Colin said, and touched her arm, the feel of his hand sending a shiver through her. She stepped backward, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much his touch affected her.

  Desperate to change the subject, Gabriela found herself confessing to him that she wasn’t going to meet her editor’s deadline. That she’d sent Sheila an email with the news just that afternoon and had attached, in its place, the other manuscript she’d been working on, that she’d finished that morning, finally deciding on how to end the story. She admitted her career might be over, but that she was at peace either way. Of course, she couldn’t tell him that it wouldn’t matter in twenty-four hours when she returned to her former life, that she’d be signing copies of her bestsellers and doing TV interviews again, that this new manuscript she’d crafted, the best thing she’d ever written, would likely never see the light of day. Maybe that’s why she’d sent it to Sheila. She wanted someone to read it before she left, even if she’d never remember doing so. Colin had listened silently as the story spilled out of her, finally taking her in his arms and saying he was sorry, that he knew this year had been hard and he wished he could take a magic eraser and make it disappear. This time, instead of pushing him away, she let her head melt into his chest and felt his fingers thread through her hair and smiled—an eraser like that did exist. And it was in the hands of a magician named Blair Wainright.

  Long after Colin left, brushing her cheek with his lips before whispering that he’d see her tomorrow at the party, Gabriela had sat, curled up in the lonely love seat in her living room, more excited than ever at the thought of returning to her old life, to the solid marriage they’d had before, the one she’d taken for granted. She’d fallen asleep with her hand clasped around her locket, thinking of how it used to feel to have her husband’s body lying beside her. This life had worn her down to a stub of what she used to be, like the lead of a dull pencil. But then her abuela had appeared in her dream and told her to stay. The question was, why?

  • • •

  Claire slid into her new Mercedes and smoothed her dress. Because she hadn’t been scared to take financial risks this time, she had borrowed money from the bank and flipped three properties in the past two months for a substantial profit and had purchased the sleek silver sedan last week. She’d hoped that having an upgraded car would give her clients more confidence in her and ultimately increase her business. But she also realized that leather seats and a sunroof weren’t going to be enough—she’d have to do the hard work too. She’d also called the hospital last week and paid all of her mother’s medical bills, a financial burden that had weighed heavy on her father last time, causing him to fall deeper into depression. She had been granted a fresh start, and she wanted to create one for him too.

  “Ready for a great night?” She glanced over at Emily as she backed carefully out of the driveway, double-checking her mirrors as she inhaled the glorious new-car smell.

  “Sure.” She’d pulled down the visor and surveyed herself in the mirror, but said nothing more.

  Claire relished the silence in the car, taking the time to daydream about Mason, feeling her cheeks flush at the thought of seeing him tonight. Their relationship had escalated rapidly once Claire finally burned down the wall that she’d been holding up between them, and her stomach fluttered as she remembered how deeply he’d kissed her when she whispered that she loved him the night after Mona’s memorial. After her mother died, Claire had decided to stop holding back with Mason, to stop worrying about where they were headed and just let herself fall. It felt amazing to become lost in him, to swim in his embrace, never wanting to let go, to talk for hours about everything and nothing at all. And for the first time, she knew with 100 percent certainty where she wanted them to end up. Together. In this life.

  Claire’s mind moved on to seeing Gabriela for the first time since they’d argued over not telling her the truth about Lucas’ biological father. She’d tried to talk to Gabriela several times to explain why she’d kept Jessie’s secret, but when she did reach Gabriela by phone, she was short and refused to discuss it, saying she understood, even though it was clear from her clipped tone she didn’t. When she’d emailed that she would be at the party, Claire had exhaled in relief. She couldn’t be that mad anymore if she was going.

  But when Claire had replied and asked her if she’d made a decision about whether she was going back, she hadn’t responded, leaving Claire with a knot in her stomach. Blair had said they’d all have to be in agreement about whether to stay or go, but the truth was, they’d never been further apart. And Claire suspected she might be the only one who wanted this version of their lives. Claire shuddered slightly as she pulled her car in front of Jessie’s house. One of them was going to have to compromise her dreams for the others. Claire thought about all the things she’d sacrificed for Emily, the secrets she’d kept for Jessie at the expense of her other friendship, the way she’d supported Gabriela even when she didn’t agree with her choices. Wasn’t it time they did something for her?

  • • •

  “Jess?”

  Jessie let out a squeal and twirled around to face Grant. “Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me!”

  Grant shook his head as Jessie dramatically covered her thumping heart with her hand.

  “I was just coming to tell you Claire is here to help set up.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Jessie said sheepishly.

  “What were you just thinking about? I must have said your name three times before you screamed bloody murder.”

  “Tonight,” Jessie said truthfully as she picked up her blush brush and applied more color to her now pale cheeks.

  Grant crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What is it about this party that has you so high strung? Is it the storm?”

  Jessie looked out the bedroom window splattered with raindrops, thankful she’d found a company that could bring a large tent to cover the tables and dance floor in her backyard at the last minute—the party business had just received a cancellation, someone not willing to risk the rain ruining their event. Jessie didn’t have that luxury. Tonight was it. She stared at the tent—the only one that had been available was red with thick white horizontal stripes, making it look like it belonged at the circus. Although maybe it would end up being perfect for the sideshow Jessie was now very worried could take place tonight.

  Yesterday, after they’d had lunch, Peter and Jessie had taken Lucas to the park, and as they both trailed behind him, hunched over with their arms outstretched like nets that would break his fall, Peter had brought up Father’s Day. Jessie’s throat tightened and she’d reached up to grab it, feeling as if she only had a tiny hole where her breath could force its way through. Peter asked what she and Grant and Lucas planned to do to celebrate, and she was afraid to meet his eyes, what she might see in them if she looked. The truth was, she didn’t know. Because there was a strong chance that she might not be here in a week, that she’d be back in a life where Father’s Day felt like a foreign holiday, one she didn’t participate in. One where she’d help Lucas and the twins purchase a gift for Grant and wrap it, always saddened that with each passing year she had a harder time helping Lucas pick one out. A life where her heart would thud each time Lucas told her about a new interest of Grant’s—how she’d obsess whether or not Janet had been the one to introduce him to it. Where she would drop him off at Grant’s for the weekend as she sucked in the wave of sobs tha
t fought to crash out of her.

  “I’m not sure. What are you, Cathy, and Sean planning?” Jessie finally said, deciding to deflect his question with one of her own. “I hear that new Italian restaurant on Third Street is pretty good.”

  “Jess.”

  Jessie pretended Lucas was about to topple over and grabbed his arm, guiding him toward the sandbox. “Do you guys celebrate with your dad too? Doesn’t he live up in Pomona?” Jessie asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from where she knew it was headed.

  “Jessie, you know I’m not making small talk here. You know why I’m asking.”

  “No, Peter, I really don’t,” she said as she pulled action figures out of her bag and struggled to separate them from each other.

  “It feels strange. Thinking of Grant being with my son on that day.”

  Why didn’t it bother you last time? Jessie thought, knowing exactly why. Last time, Lucas was just an idea, one he was able to push away because he never had his little hand wrapped around his finger, he never saw him take his first steps, never held him when he was sick. How could she have been so naïve to believe that letting Peter spend time with his son would actually keep him from wanting to actively be his father?

  “I get it, Peter, but let’s be fair. Grant is also very much his father—he’s the one who puts him to bed each night, the one who’s been there each and every day since he’s been born.” Jessie said the last words gently, trying to take the sting off them. “I understand this is complicated—for all of us. What if we met up with you the next day? He would never know the difference.”

  Peter crouched down next to the sandbox and handed Lucas a shovel. “But I would.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Tell Grant I have to take Lucas to celebrate with his real father? Thanks for all the diaper changes and sleepless nights this past year, but now Peter’s decided to step in and we won’t be needing your services anymore?” Jessie scoffed, looking up at the overcast sky.

  “Of course not. But I don’t think it’s too much to ask to see my son on Father’s Day. Even if he doesn’t know the truth, I do. And I want to be there for him.” Peter reached out and grabbed Jessie’s arm, turning her toward him. “Jess, isn’t this what you wanted when you met me at that dive café to tell me you were pregnant? Because you could have just kept it to yourself. I never would have known.”

  But I would’ve known, Jessie thought, repeating Peter’s words from earlier in her mind. And one day if Lucas found out, she’d have to explain why she hadn’t told his father.

  “I couldn’t not tell you. How would I have explained that to Lucas? I couldn’t tell another lie,” Jessie finally answered.

  “You’ve been lying to Grant for months. How is that any different?”

  “I know.” Jessie looked down. “But those lies have allowed you to get to know Lucas.”

  “With limitations.”

  “True,” she finally answered. “But you didn’t want anything to do with your son until our little run-in at the coffee shop, with your wife. Then you suddenly decided being a dad to this baby was important. How do you explain that?”

  Peter’s face had turned sheet white and he’d looked down for several seconds, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “I don’t know, something just happened to me—seeing him changed everything. Honestly, if I hadn’t, I’m not sure we’d be here right now. Isn’t it weird how a chance meeting like that changed everything?”

  “Yes,” she answered quietly, knowing that chance hadn’t had much to do with it. She felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about the decade of Lucas’ life Peter had missed before, even if it had been of his own doing. If she returned, she’d be taking that from him all over again. She heard herself telling him she’d figure out a way for him to see Lucas on Father’s Day, knowing if she decided to stay, life was about to get even more complicated than she realized. The life she left behind may have been lonely, but at least she knew what to expect. Here, she was realizing, anything could happen. “Maybe you and Cathy should skip the party.”

  Peter shook his head. “Cathy already knows about it. It will be harder to come up with an explanation for why we’re canceling than it will be to go.”

  “Okay, but will you please steer clear of Grant? A lot of people will be there, so he’ll never take it personally if you don’t come over and say hi.”

  “What do you think’s going to happen if we do talk, Jessie?” Peter’s face had transformed, suddenly looking more like a little boy than a grown man.

  Jessie backpedaled. “I don’t know, but he might pick up on something, sense something. You never know; I’m just trying to be cautious. Like you so kindly pointed out, I’ve been lying to him for months.”

  “And obviously he doesn’t have a clue, Jessie.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Jessie shrugged, thinking about how Grant had peppered her with questions a few weeks ago when she’d taken Lucas to meet Peter at the children’s museum. She was pretty sure he’d just been curious, but each inquiry felt like a bullet to dodge, and she didn’t know how much longer she could make up stories and keep track of them. Even though the truth about Lucas’ paternity and their split had devastated her, at least Grant knew the truth and he’d chosen to be Lucas’ father anyway, because that’s the kind of person he was. Jessie wondered if she chose to stay here, how long she could manage the double life she’d created for herself. “What about Cathy? How can you be so sure she doesn’t suspect something?”

  “She doesn’t know a thing. I always meet you when she is at an appointment or a meeting, when I’m absolutely sure there’s no risk of running into her.”

  “And the night I babysat? She didn’t suspect a thing?”

  “Nope. She was just thrilled I was taking her out.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I could ask you the same thing about Grant. After all these months, why are you freaking out about this now?” Peter frowned. “Don’t you trust me? I know what I said to you at the auction. But things are different now. I would never want Cathy or Grant to find out the wrong way.”

  The problem was, Jessie did trust him. She trusted that he had changed from the first time around, that he truly wanted to do the right thing, to have a relationship with his son. And because of that, she wasn’t confident he would keep their secret for much longer. For that reason, she knew her life as she knew it was in jeopardy. “I do,” she finally answered before standing to leave, closing the door on their conversation. She’d be deciding soon enough if she’d even be here on Father’s Day.

  • • •

  But now, as she stared at the rain pounding against the circus tent outside, she was still conflicted. Her choice would affect so many more people than her. “I just want to have a good night with you,” Jessie said as she walked over to Grant and laid her head on his chest, tucking the memory away to reference later, in case this was the last night he was hers.

  “Every night is a good night, as long as we have each other,” Grant said, leaning against the doorframe. “Right?”

  “Do you really mean that?” Jessie asked. “Even the ones when Lucas is puking and the girls are whining and I’m wearing the same shirt as the day before? You’re still satisfied?”

  Grant grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest. “I think the one thing I’ve learned this year is that if you keep waiting around to discover what makes you happy, then you probably never will be.”

  “You have to just find your happiness in what you already have,” Jessie added, thinking about how often she used to think if she only had this or that that she would be satiated. She’d never really concentrated on loving the life she already led.

  “Remember that night that you told me you wanted us to still like each other ten years down the road? So what’s the verdict? Will we? Do I still make you happy?”

  “Yes,” she said, and thought of how little she had slept that week, of how disorganized her closet was, of how h
er hair still frizzed out at the top, no matter how much hair spray she piled on. She thought of how Lucas had bit her on the soft spot of her arm earlier and left a mark, how annoyed Grant had been with her when she’d lost her keys again, and how frustrated she had been with Goldie, the puppy, when she’d chewed up Jessie’s favorite pillow on the couch. Yes, her life was a mess most of the time. But it was hers. And she finally realized it made her happy, no matter how messy it was.

  • • •

  An hour later Jessie locked eyes briefly with Gabriela across the room, and she smiled lightly before looking away. She scanned the crowd until she found Claire, who appeared to be listening to a story one of Grant’s colleagues was telling, but her eyes were darting around as if she was searching for something.

  Jessie and Claire had briefly talked to Gabriela when the party first started and they exchanged awkward hugs, Gabriela stiffly leaning into their embraces, making it clear she still had her wall up. “We need to talk,” Claire had said under her breath.

  “Agreed. Let’s go somewhere more quiet,” Jessie said, eager to sort out their plan.

  Gabriela had nodded. “Yes, but not right now. I need a drink first—now that I can have one.” She half smiled as she placed her hand on her stomach. Claire noticed her boxy dress, thinking it was not at all like the bold, figure-flattering ensembles Gabriela would’ve worn in her alternate life, then realized that Gabriela’s smile didn’t make its way up to her eyes, the way it always used to. Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her friend’s sultry grin or her flirtatious pout. She seemed a shell of herself and Claire wondered, would staying here take away what was left of the Gabriela she’d known for thirty years?